


Wake of the Force

by dogmatix, norcumi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Droids, F/M, Fallen!Anakin, Fallen!Obi-Wan, GFY, M/M, Uncanny Valley, doid OCs, eventual Rex/Obi, many background characters died in the creation of this fic, many things are different, some on screen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-07-16 13:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7270348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogmatix/pseuds/dogmatix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Rex was having a quiet day, until a Republic prisoner turns everything upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Brought to you with the assistance of the ever glorious Flamethrower! Thank you!

Captain Rex – actually Commander, but fuck that; the army was so disorganized some days it only paid to be underestimated – knew trouble when he saw it coming. It was a commando droid, matte gray with subtle blue bands along the edges of its chassis. Unfortunately, he was the only one in the hallway, so there wasn’t anything to do but stand his ground.

No surprise; Q7 marched right up to him with that rolling gait, raising its right arm. Rex brought his up as well, the two bumping the back of forearm guards together in a Mando greeting. “You’re wanted down in the detention center, block 18,” Q7 declared, sympathy in his vocalizer. “No one tells us droids anything, but since it’s you they’re after....”

Rex made a face before patting Q7 on the shoulder. “Great. Jedi.”

Not how he wanted his day to go.

* * *

Like most of his brothers, Rex had a wary respect for Jedi. Not as people, but as military leaders. They were canny, they knew the Confederacy had several advantages over the Republic, and they had a burning hatred for the clones.

Ironic, really. One of their members hadn’t gotten a memo about _why_ cloning sentients was so viciously persecuted – and policed – by Jedi. Never mind the mess of basic sentient rights, and legal status as free individuals. Never mind the controversy over what paying for a clone’s existence entailed the purchaser to. 

The Jedi believed the clones were such an abomination of nature, that they weren’t even part of the Force.

Every now and again, Rex had to look at religion and just _sigh_. How a body of beings dedicated to the care and nurture of those around them could on the one hand claim all things, and all beings, were part of the Force, then immediately turn around and say clones weren’t – 

The days he looked too hard at that were days he was glad Dooku had freed them. 

* * *

As people, Rex hadn’t met a Jedi yet who was worth the time it took to kill them. He’d heard the holocasts about the danger of the clones, the depravity of the Confederacy, the war crimes that Rex knew damn well the Republic was at least as guilty of, if not more so. He suspected that at least some of the viciousness was lashback against the supposed assassination of Chancellor Palpatine – a munitions explosion that had taken out the Chancellor, his shuttle, and a decent chunk of the Foerest shipyards that was being toured by a whole bunch of dignitaries that the Republic didn’t care nearly as much about. Just their precious Chancellor. 

That had been barely a month before Count Dooku had discovered the cloning going on at Kamino. So very convenient of the Jedi – they had an army being grown, and thus outside all legal jurisdictions, just in time to squash the increasingly volatile members of the Confederacy. That had been even before the first chips had been found.

No one could quite figure out what they were, other than bio-organic chips that were implanted in the clones from early in the creation process. They knew it was 100% fatal to remove – the first poor bastard to totally crack without it had been Tup, one of Rex’s men. Fives, for all that he’d been an ARC and a Null, had only lasted a few days longer than Tup. Whatever it was, they needed the damn thing. Count Dooku had come and supervised the medical team seeing to the chip extraction, and personally apologized to the clones in the area for not being able to do more. 

* * *

It was all clankers waiting for him at cell block 18 – not a surprise if there was a Jedi captured. The ubiquitous battle droids that were the mainstay of both Republic and Sep armies were good for overwhelming the enemy, and that was one of the few ways to reliably kill Jedi.

Nulls were the other major approach.

Rex hustled over to the guard station nestled close to a tiny, high security cell, settling himself for a longish wait.

Turned out he had good timing – several MagnaDroids came in dragging a small form wrapped up in a cloak before a few minutes had passed. They tossed the Jedi into the cell, the lead of the squad nodding to Rex. “Interrogation will begin in approximately five hours. Will you require a relief Null?”

Rex shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, DT. I’m the only one on base unless Wolffe and his Pack were found.”

DT8-0 made a slight whirring noise as it chewed over datastreams much more readily available to it than Rex. “Negative,” it declared. “They are still reported missing. On the positive side, Republic reports also indicate that Jedi Councilor Plo Koon is missing as well. The Pack’s mission might have ended in success.”

Rex sighed, feeling a lot older than twelve. “Not a success if people don’t come home in one piece, DT.”

“I shall remember that, the next time I’m restored from backup.”

Rex rolled his eyes as DT followed the rest of its squad back to whatever duties they’d been pulled off of. “Still not funny!”

* * *

Ahsoka stiffened at the voice. No. No, no no no. She tried to shove herself upright, but the tinnies had been fast, there’d been a lot of them, and they’d had Force pikes. She couldn’t stop a groan as bruises and who knew how many sprained muscles complained at her, and really, given that she had to have at least one broken rib she might’ve gotten off lightly.

Lightly. Right. Not when the entire room felt dark, like it was swamping her in a damp blanket that kept her from seeing or feeling anything around her.

It wasn’t, actually, but the Force was no longer there.

Gods, she hated clones.

“Speak up if you’re dying, Jedi.” Gods. That voice sounded a touch sympathetic, which only made her bristle. She’d lost friends to those bastards. She wasn’t in the mood to chitchat, no matter how much one of those things wanted to talk.

“You prefer personalized torture?” Ahsoka snapped back, because Skyguy had a good point. Make them mad, and you could control the battlefield. Anakin and Obi-Wan were the only people she’d seen get mad and become _more_ precise. 

The clone snorted. “Not my area of expertise. I’m just here to keep you out of trouble.”

“What were you planning on doing, talking me to death?” Ahsoka knew very well, from the creche onwards, that Jedi were supposed to be compassionate and understanding. She’d learned over the two years of war though that there was a line. Soon as she found a way out, anything blocking her exit was paste. She wouldn’t inflict pain just for the sake of revenge or satisfaction – no matter how much it might give her – but she wasn’t leaving threats at her back _or_ in her way. 

“Could always be quiet and let you wither away in boredom,” the clone drawled, before – of course – going silent.

Great. It wanted to pretend it had a sense of humor. _Artoo_ had a better sense of humor. 

Ahsoka pushed herself to her feet, ignoring how much it hurt. She had a lot to ignore: how her senses all were muted, how she felt old and sick as she tottered around the room to check for any convenient openings or debris or _anything_ useful. 

She was honestly surprised when the clone spoke up again.

“You’re a padawan, aren’t you.”

She rolled her eyes. “What made you guess that?” Her flat tone hopefully conveyed nothing but disdain for the clone, and how very little she thought of his observational prowess.

“Didn’t get a look at anything but a cloak when they brought you in.”

Ahsoka glared at the door. “What, I sound that young to you?”

“None of us are young anymore,” he said, all solemn melodrama.

“Oh please.” She snorted because he certainly couldn’t hear her eye-roll. “Could you be any more dramatic?”

“I hear they’re giving lessons endweek at the officer’s lounge.”

Ahsoka paused. She...she couldn’t tell if the blithe answer was a joke or not.

That was the single most disturbing thing she’d ever encountered.

“Did you nullify your sense of humor, too?”

“I can’t help what I am any more than you can, Jedi. Force doesn’t work around me, you can’t stand that, why does that mean – ”

“You shouldn’t even exist.” Ahsoka had to work to keep her tone flat, letting her emotions go into the Force. “You were _created._ That’s nothing you could say or do that would ever convince me–”

“I thought it was ‘Jedi respect _all_ life, in any form.’”

She paused. “And why do you think that?”

“I might’ve read it somewhere.”

“You’re outside the Force. That means you’re not life as we know it.”

“So you’re supposed to improve yourself through knowledge – why does ignoring proof right in front of you–”

“What have you been _reading_?”

* * *

Rex wasn’t about to admit to the several contraband texts he’d acquired over the last year. Some were hastily traded to him as the most voracious reader around who would have something reasonable in compensation – and he was an officer, so could dispose of contraband without any trouble. Some he’d picked up from assorted battlefields and rescue operations – just because the Confederacy wasn’t part of the Republic anymore didn’t mean that everyone disliked the Jedi, or that they’d be willing to abandon favorite works from their youth. If the troops were digging through wreckage for survivors, they were all aware of the value of such mementos for the living. There was always the hope that the civilians caught in the middle of shit would take some comfort in a small part of home.

When there were no survivors, and no one wanted to bother with trivial media of no consequence to people without any material goods, it ended up with the army.

Rex’s first exposure to contraband had been some war propaganda on a Republic soldier, a tattooed bruiser of a Rodian who might well have been a conscripted criminal – if that rumor was true, and the Republic was indeed emptying their copious prisons for more bodies to defend against the Confederacy. It was a ridiculous piece of fluff about heroic Jedi and valiant history of saving the galaxy, but there’d been some genuinely interesting details about the Jedi Code. Rex suspected the man he’d take it off of had liked the various shots of assorted female Jedi, given where most of the saved markers were, but he ignored that. Then he investigated other works that the Confederacy would frown upon, because his interest had been piqued and he wanted to know more.

When Cody had approached him with questions about Jedi, months later, and Rex had been able to recite details about several prominent Jedi and their fighting styles, Rex had realized he’d perhaps gotten a bit deep into “research.”

On the other hand, thanks to Rex’s information, Cody was the one to come back from the battle while Knights Barriss Offee and Nadhar Vebb had not. It might have earned Rex some time with higher ups that had questions, but he was able to answer them to their satisfaction. All in all, worth it.

It did, however, also mean he had a lot of questions, and he was bored. It took awhile to coax answers out of the padawan, whoever she was, but she had the somewhat endearing quality of going on a bit of a tirade when poked.

The problem, of course, was the more they talked, the more painfully clear it was that this was just another kid. She didn’t seem to have her head stuffed with the Republic propaganda, at least not about the Confederacy being all in the wrong, at least. Since she was a Jedi it was no surprise that she was entirely underwater on those half-truths and convoluted illogic, but....

But.

Rex and his brothers had been raised Mandalorian, thank all the gods that might be. Jedi might treat their younglings as miniature adults, but Mandalorians had some concept of childhood and “attachment.”

The padawan had a maturity rivaling some of Rex’s brothers, but this was still just a kid.

Dammit.

* * *

Rex had several hours to wrestle with his conscience, and conversation didn’t make it easier. He hadn’t come to any conclusions when he stood for the walkabout he was due, just to keep limber. It had to be pacing back and forth against the cell’s walls: his presence in the Force didn’t extend further than about a meter and a half, and he couldn’t nullify the Jedi if he stretched the way he wanted to.

An hour later, with an hour to go before the youngling’s interrogation, he had another break.

There was a part of Rex that wasn’t surprised that he kept walking. He just...couldn’t be a part of that. He was loyal to the Confederacy, he would never not appreciate how Count Dooku had worked so long and hard to ensure the clones’ freedom, but –

He could not send a child to torture, not in cold blood and full knowledge that both sides of this ridiculous conflict were guilty of getting intel in a number of ways that weren’t _right_.

Rex was at the end of the corridor when the cell door exploded out of its frame, squashing two hapless clankers against the far wall. He could hear footsteps, stumbling and hesitant at first, then pounding away from him at speeds most humanoids couldn’t manage.

Alarms began to sound, and Rex closed his eyes and waited.

He might commit treason, but he wouldn’t run.

* * *

There was a part of Rex that wasn’t too surprised that within half a rotation, there were alarms of a different sort. It started with the particular _thwoom_ of Republic artillery, a slightly different plasma charge that gave it a deeper crackle and impact noise than Confederacy weapons. 

Inside his cell, curled up best he could on the bare bunk afforded to prisoners, Rex ducked his head. _This is your doing_ , he reminded himself, trying for numb but only finding tired grief. It had been 50/50 odds that the little padawan would be back, presumably with her master, whoever that was. 

Well. If her master had any decency or sanity, the padawan would be kept far, far away from this battle.

Jedi. She’d probably be in the thick of it. 

He could track a lot of the battle’s progress just by sound, who was being deployed where. The battle wasn’t going well for them, not when the Republic was going through them that fast. He kept twitching at the sound of feet pounding through the facility, his body screaming at him to join his brothers and friends in defending the base.

The bruises and worse from the “questioning” he’d gotten reminded him every time that not only could he not assist, it was still on him. Every death, every droid down – Rex had brought that.

His back was to the door when it hissed open, but he didn’t move. Either someone was there to drag him out to send him into the front lines, or it was the Republic. It would bound to be noted in the log what he’d done, and the Jedi rarely had mercy for clones. The only mercy they showed to Nulls was to kill them as fast as possible. 

Rex went still at the distinct sound of a lightsaber igniting. He dared to let out a soft exhale, then he made himself roll over.

Oh gods. Obi-Wan Kenobi stood in the doorway. He had the look of a predator, head canted to the side so the longish hair brushed past his shoulders, the stillness to him that of a man waiting to attack. Rex wasn’t sure what to make of the fact the man’s eyes glowed yellow red, not the icy blue that showed up in all the holos. 

Gods above. Kenobi meant Rex had let _Ahsoka Tano_ go. If Kenobi was here, then it was Skywalker who was raining destruction down on the base, and Tano would most definitively be right there alongside him. 

It was difficult to be anything but numb in the face of the man who was terror of clone cadets and more shinies than would ever admit to it. Rex forced words out, not sure what to make of the fact that Kenobi remained watching him like a particularly bored hawk. Sure, Rex was a Null, but Kenobi had a lightsaber. That usually meant dead clone by now. “Well. What’d I do to get the prettiest assassin the Republic has to send?”

A moment later he was regretting the words, not because he now had a lightsaber at his throat, already several steps beyond uncomfortably warm, but because admitting to a terrifying, emotionless killer that you appreciated his looks was somewhere between embarrassing and moronic. Hell of a way to die.

Kenobi saved Rex from dying from embarrassment by making it clear Rex had bigger problems. “You killed Vos,” he declared, voice cold and emotionless as space.

As if _that_ were something Rex would back down from. He glared right back. “He was killing several companies of my brothers.”

Kenobi had a flicker of a smile that had no humor to it. “That earned you Jaig eyes.”

Yes. It had. Rex had been the only Null on planet at the time, and he’d been injured earlier in the battle. Quinlan Vos had ignored one more wounded clone as the Jedi had slaughtered his way through the medical site that was the last Confederate holdout, never seeming to realize that the way the Force slid off clones was more concentrated in one area. 

Rex had already had several hours to be bored out of his mind, more than enough time to memorize where all the medics were keeping their kits.

Medics had all sorts of sharp objects on hand, and once Rex was in arm’s length, Vos had gone from a force of nature, fast and furious as a Kaminoan lightning storm, to just a very angry man with a plasma sword.

Shit. Hadn’t there been some sort of rumor about Vos and Kenobi being a thing? Rex buried that question and raised a brow at Kenobi. “Nice to know Jedi listen to propaganda.” 

“It seems you do as well.” Rex blinked, not knowing what the hells was going on. He really ought to have been dead several times over by now. Kenobi saw the reaction, and he took a step closer. The lightsaber never wavered, though Kenobi’s expression got darker. “You let Ahsoka Tano go.”

Rex deflated a little, too damn hurt and far too damn guilty to keep playing word games. “She’s a kid.” Also, this was gods damned Obi-Wan Kenobi, not some idealistic little padawan. He didn’t need to mince words, and he might as well make his death – the death of the whole base, if Kenobi and Skywalker lived up to their reputation – mean something. “Congratulations. She’s a cold, skilled killer, but underneath that, you and Skywalker somehow kept a kid going, and with her fucking idealism almost intact.” Bitterness slipped past resignation, and Rex bared his teeth in an equally mirthless grin. “Still surprised you Jedi haven’t just tossed your padawans out in the front lines and mowed us down while we try to figure out what the fuck to do with all those _younglings_.”

That somehow seemed to make Kenobi’s eyes glow a brighter bloody gold. “We are not monsters,” Kenobi growled, with just the slightest emphasis on ‘we.’

Rex didn’t roll his eyes, but he gave Kenobi one hell of a glare. “Do I need to point out that Tano is four years _older_ than I am? Who _do_ you think we have to blame for that? We’re what you bred us to be, so why the fuck are you complaining about reaping that particular harvest?”

“We _didn’t,_ ” Kenobi snarled back, gesturing with his free hand like he was trying to Force grab Rex by the throat and strangle him. Rex wasn’t sure if he was lucky that Kenobi was too close for that to work beyond the sensation of something, water or air sluicing past his shoulder where no draft existed. “I’m on the damn Council, and we _still_ have no idea how that rumor got started, since no one in the Order would do such an abominable thing! Cloning sentients is against the law for countless reasons, and your humanity, and lack thereof, is merely one of them! For all of Sifo-Dyas’ eccentricities, he would never have paid good credits for that!”

Rex’s instincts were always good, and that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He wasn’t hearing some kind of party line. This was the personal affront of a man who thought that statement — a statement Rex and all his brothers believed, because what the hell _else_ could be going on? — was a bald faced lie. From the expression on Kenobi's face, he was realizing the same. It was perhaps the first time he’d bothered to talk to a clone, and it was new intel to him. “You think we made that up.”

Kenobi’s lightsaber pulled back a millimeter – tiny, but telling. “And you think we’re lying.”

Rex shook his head. “If we both think we have the truth, then what the hell is going on?” A far more urgent question rose up, bursting out for all that he knew it was a mistake. “What about the chips?”

Gods. There was blankness in those eyes, not that of a killer but genuine confusion. “What chips?”

Dooku had said they wouldn’t be spreading word of that travesty because if nothing else, if the Jedi thought their nasty little gift was still undiscovered, it wouldn’t be used arbitrarily. As Kenobi had said: he was on the Jedi Council. The Jedi had ordered the clones. They _had_ to know about the chips, because if only Yoda or Windu know about them, then there was too great a risk that the knowledge of how to stop the army in its tracks could be lost. There was no tactical way the Jedi Council could not know.

“Bio-organic chips,” Rex whispered, blood draining from his face. Kenobi looked suspicious as hell, as if he thought this was some sort of ploy. For the first time in his life, Rex wished a gods damned Jedi could read his emotions, _feel_ the near panic as suspicion blossomed into something far, far worse. “All we know is we die without it. Most popular theory is that it erases us, that when it’s engaged we keep our skills, our talents, the things which make us useful as soldiers and better than droids but wipes our minds, makes us top tier meat clankers.” Tup had been that, reciting rote orders and trying to follow through on them. Fives had been paranoid, distracted, further and further out of touch with reality, but still functioning as the terrifying ARC he was.

Kenobi’s face was equal parts horror, disgust, and fury. “We are not monsters,” he snarled again, words almost incomprehensible through the loathing. “I don’t care what you think of us, I don’t care what kind of monster _you_ are, I’d much sooner just kill you and get someone to build me a decent tinny.”

“Then what the hell is going on?” Rex could barely repeat himself, because if not the Jedi – and his every instinct and understanding of people screamed that Kenobi could not be acting – then who?

The lightsaber snapped off, and Kenobi moved fast. Almost inhumanly fast, and Rex knew what kind of training was needed for that kind of speed and precision. An unignited lightsaber was prodded into his ribs, and a blaster at the back of his neck. “You're coming with me, and we’re going to find out.” He could hear, almost _feel_ the bite of a smile that wasn’t. “If you’re well behaved, then for Ahsoka’s sake, we’ll just kill you immediately.”


	2. Chapter 2

Obi-Wan couldn’t stop a shiver of revulsion from crawling up his spine as the clone docilely allowed the droids to shove him into a cell. In design, it was exact opposite of what the Seps had put Ahsoka in. That one had been tiny, all the better to make sure she couldn’t escape the Null’s range. This one was spacious, with thick walls. It was typically a cell for a group, but at that size the only way the Null’s abilities could extend beyond it would be if he hugged the wall closest to the corridor.

Obi-Wan hadn’t once touched the Null while removing him from the Sep base, but he still wanted to crawl into a shower and wipe away the memory of the way the Force had gone muffled and vague, or just kill the bastard and solve several problems at once.

Except it wouldn’t. Damn everything.

Anakin and Ahsoka weren’t due back for a while, so Obi-Wan stalked back to his quarters. It wasn’t until he was in the privacy of his own room that it registered how damn _good_ it had been, having droids and soldiers both scampering out of the way of his scowl.

Fuck. Dammit.

He had to spend a bit of time breathing deep, letting the rage dissipate – as much as it ever did – leaving behind a bitter ache of fear and violence that thrummed deep in his bones. He had to do better. He had to _be_ better.

Force, though, the notion of Ahsoka in the hands of the Seps made his blood run cold. It had been horrible enough for him to be around the Null. He’d had to wear an inhibitor mask once, because Asajj had been a fucking sadistic bitch. Obi-Wan knew what it felt like to be completely cut off from the Force. Nulls had a Force-dampening effect that got stronger the closer one was to them, but the Force was never entirely gone without actual touch – or so he’d heard.

Fuck answers. Obi-Wan would kill the blond bastard before that. He struggled with resentment at how easily Commander fucking Captain Rex had surrendered, suspicion about how quietly he’d come along, and burning shame at the fact that Vos’ killer had dared lecture him about the cost of the fucking war.

That sobered his rage quickly. For all that the Null’s challenge made him furious, the chips that Commander Rex had talked about…

Sifo-Dyas had been more than a little odd. He hadn’t been Dark, and those chips were.

If they existed, of course, though if they didn’t, it was more likely someone was lying to the Null, instead of Commander Rex lying to him.

It would be an easy out, if the chips didn’t exist. Probably meant they did.

Exhaustion dragged at him through the anger that was his constant companion. There were times when he bitterly wondered about the Sith on Naboo. He had felt the Darkness then, how the Zabrak had seethed with the sort of emotions and bile that he found so often in himself and Anakin.

Not Ahsoka, though. Not yet, and Force willing, not ever. They had managed to keep her out of the messier aspects of the war, kept her from the Darkness that felt like it was infesting more and more of the galaxy, and while she was not innocent, she was still Light.

Obi-Wan didn’t know if there was any hope for himself or Anakin, but at least they could contribute something good besides ending this damned war.

If and when that ever happened.

By the time Anakin and Ahsoka made it to his quarters, he had calmed down enough that he didn’t need to use the Force to misdirect attention from his eyes, but was able to use Anakin’s little illusion trick instead. They still weren’t sure how it worked, but Anakin had stumbled over how to... _want_ , for lack of a better word, to obscure the yellow and red that they now showed in private.

Ahsoka probably knew, since they weren’t perfect in their attempts to cover up the signs of Darkness, but if she'd seen anything she had never acknowledged it. A mistake made in kindness, really. She ought to know better than to turn a blind eye to Darkness.  She should have challenged them, or reported them.  It would be the proper, Jedi thing to do.  Obi-Wan sometimes wondered if she was willfully blind, refusing to see what was right in front of her, or if she accepted them despite what they'd become.  The only way to know for sure would be to ask, and Obi-Wan had not been able to bring himself to do that.

After the war. They just had to make it to the end of the war, and once Dooku was dead and the army was defeated, then they could...deal with matters. However that turned out.

* * *

Rex was pretty sure he’d spent several hours in this cell already. The isolation made sense, was a typical tactic that he preferred over the beating he actually expected. He wasn’t expecting to hear a droid’s familiar vocalizer from the doorway. “I hope this is part of your plan.”

Rex jerked upright at the whisper. Q7 stood outside the cell, fiddling with the controls for the door’s shield. Rex had to swallow down a lump in his throat. At least someone had made it out, but– Oh gods. “Stop. Get out of here, now!”

The commando droid was well programmed enough that he didn’t need to look at what he was doing to hotwire the controls. It meant he was able to give Rex the head-tilt Q7 had instead of a skeptical brow-lift, and the droid was doing his level best to give him a scathing look. “I know what I’m doing. You, however–”

“I let the Jedi go.” _Gods_ , it hurt to admit, and it at least made Q7 still. “The whole damn attack– I let kriffing _Ahsoka Tano_ go.”

From the way Q7 wasn’t reacting to the name, he knew damn well what dangers were aboard. “Ploy, betrayal, or momentary insanity, then?” he asked, only a little wry in a way that made Rex’s heart ache. Q7 wasn’t passing judgement – yet – and he knew he didn’t deserve the droid’s friendship.

“She’s a kid,” Rex whispered, not able to speak the words at a normal volume. “You know what would have happened to her.”

Q7’s head-tilt was pure droid, like he hadn’t developed a personality over the time Rex had known him. A long, long moment, then Q7 sighed. “Sometimes you have the strangest priorities about how long someone’s been online.” The quip was affectionate, dry, and in no way stopping him from tinkering with door controls further. “You’d think we weren’t manufactured to be destroyed or something.”

The noise Rex made wasn’t a laugh. He moved closer to the door. “I won’t run. And things got complicated.”

How a being with no facial expression except the faintest brightening or dimming of the eyes could give him a filthy look was beyond Rex, but Q7 was an expert at it. “Rex, _you’re_ involved. Of course it’s fucking complicated.”

“Oh, like your involvement is going to make that any better?”

Q7’s only response was a bit of a flamboyant twist as he connected something in the door’s wiring, making the containment field flicker and die with a whine. Q7 muttered something rude at the mechanism in Binary. “Republic junk heap didn’t want to listen to me,” he grumped, before glancing back at Rex. “Status?”

He clenched his hands, biting back the instinct to run, get off the fucking Republic ship and destroy anything that tried to stop them on their way out. “Suspicious. I think the Jedi might not be the ones who had us made; Kenobi didn’t know about the chips. He accused me of the propaganda machine making up our origins. If one of the best Generals and a Council member in good standing is clueless, something’s off.”

Q7 was silent for a moment, then shook his head. “Thin logic.”

“Instincts.”

Q7’s snort was almost eloquent. “Younglings, instincts – what fleshy fallacy are you going to give in to next, wanting to spark connectors?” Rex wasn’t able to stop a tiny blush, which of course Q7 saw. The droid pulled back in what Rex hoped was mock astonishment. “Rex!”

He was at the right angle to see a scowling Kenobi round the corner. Fucking Jedi was fast, drawing his lightsaber and lunging down towards them in a blink. Q7 heard the weapon ignite, but swift as he was to turn and drop into a battle ready stance, Rex knew it wouldn’t be enough. He grabbed Q7’s shoulder joint, yanking back and using the droid’s weight to haul himself forward at the same time. It was pointless and he knew it: Kenobi wouldn’t hesitate to cut him down either, and it wasn’t as if Q7 would be able to escape, let alone tackle Kenobi on his own.

Wasn’t as if he could just stand there, either. Rex watched the blue plasma slow a hair as Kenobi hit the null field’s edge, and he braced himself. He’d heard it didn’t hurt for the first fifteen, twenty seconds. Since he’d be dead after that, there were certainly worse fates.

Instead there was that unfamiliar hiss as the lightsaber powered off, Kenobi spinning around them to reignite his weapon and level it at Q7’s head, which was around Rex’s chest height. Q7 and Rex both froze.

“Hello there,” Kenobi growled, just enough mock pleasantry to his tone to make Rex’s skin crawl. “I didn’t realize you’d brought a friend, Commander Rex.” From the disdainful tone, ‘friend’ was about as sarcastic as it got. Rex couldn’t stop a bristle, even though he knew how stupid it was.

“I’m quite capable of boarding your ship all by myself,” Q7 drawled, just as dry despite a tiny quaver Rex could pick up from the usual vocalizer tones. “Especially when Skywalker thinks to take a bunch of us ‘deactivated tinnys’ as battle spoils.”

Rex had to fight down a shiver of revulsion, for all that he knew both sides were guilty of that particular horror. Any clankers that weren’t scrap were repurposed, their drives wiped and new loyalties plugged in. Damn few brothers he knew were comfortable with the notion of taking a being – ‘just a droid’ or not – and erasing them as if they never developed personalities or quirks. As if they weren’t people. It was too damn close to what the fucking chips seemed to do. He might not like every clanker, especially not the battle fodder that didn’t even have enough processing power to get much of a personality, but he could not deny they were as much a sentient being outside of the Force as he was.

Q7 was a _friend_. A moronic, sarcastic ass of a friend who thought it was a good idea to snark Obi-fucking-Wan Kenobi, but still a friend.

“Don’t kill him. Please.”

Kenobi’s eyes flicked up to Rex, the yellow brightening with a disturbing, faint glow. “It’s a droid.”

“ _He_ is a better means of leverage on me than the usual Jedi approach of removing limbs.” Rex wished he dared speak the mental apology he wanted to give to Q7. Making him a means of control which the Jedi were likely to be casual about dismantling was cruel, but–

Rex had condemned too many of his friends and allies to death. At least this allowed for potential escape.

Q7 had to make things difficult. He stood up slowly, ignoring the lightsaber almost searing his chassis. “I’d actually like to volunteer a change in allegiance all on my own.” That earned him equally incredulous looks from both Rex and Kenobi, which of course Q7 ignored. The droid kept staring at Kenobi. “I trust Captain Rex’s judgement. He has... _questions_ about the Confederacy. Therefore, I will alter my programming to make my primary loyalties to him. You may bring in a slicer to determine the factuality of that, though I am the only one to change my code. I will accept a restraining bolt.”

 _No! No no no what the FUCK you crazy clanker?_ Rex couldn’t stop staring, trying to get his head around the overly formal, synthetic tone Q7 had adopted. Fucking clanker could change his loyalties just like any other being, but altering his programming–

Rex’s thoughts screeched to a halt as he realized Q7’s ruse. His stomach sank, and all he could really manage was the distant thought that now he _was_ glad the Jedi couldn’t read his emotions. Q7 could alter his programming, but he’d already indicated he trusted Rex more than the Confederacy. Q7 _had_ already changed his loyalties, the old fashioned ‘human’ way without touching programming.

What the fuck. What the _fuck_ was wrong with that droid because Rex had done nothing to deserve that.

Kenobi had the amused, skeptical look of a cat who’d just had mice try to negotiate a peaceful coexistence. He looked between Q7 and Rex, then he let out a huff of disdainful laughter. “Well, Commander? Is your own personal leash everything you’d hoped for? Will you dance to my tune for its continued existence?”

Rex swallowed, reminding himself that taking an attitude with Kenobi wouldn’t help anything. A bit of respect, however, might. Much as it grated along his every last nerve, Rex drew himself to attention and nodded. “Yes, General Kenobi. I will cooperate with you, sir.”

Kenobi’s eyebrow twitched, his face contorting with who knew what emotion. Then he disengaged the lightsaber, attaching it to his belt before sweeping well clear of them to the door. He stopped on the other side of the doorway, resealing the containment field. “You’ve ten minutes to change your code, tinny. I’m having several experts check you over.” His glare switched over to Rex, and the Jedi gave him a feral smile with no humor. “Please consider what information you’ll be sharing with us first.”

Rex waited until Kenobi strode around the corner, well out of sight and hopefully hearing range. Then he sagged against the wall. “What the hells, Q7?”

The commando droid vocalized a put-upon sigh. “You don’t act randomly. Your intuition is better than a lot of logistic droids’ calculations, and I’ve been in one of your squads since day three of the war. Now is a kriffing stupid time to stop following your lead.”

“There’s following my lead, and then there’s volunteering to be my own personal leash. If one of these Republic assholes doesn’t get what they want from me, they’ll be taking it out on you! What the _hells_ , Q7?”

Q7 laughed softly. “Did you even hear what you said? I’ll bet you didn’t.” At Rex’s blank look, Q7 shook his head. There was an audible click, then he replayed a recording of Rex’s words. “Don’t kill him.” Rex went still. “Kill,” Q7 repeated in his own voice. “Not destroy, or scrap, or trash. Kill. Like I’m an actual person.”

“You are,” Rex said, earning another soft laugh.

“Not to a lot of beings. Not even many of your brothers.” Q7 hesitated, then looked at Rex. =Odds they have a Mando’a speaker on staff?=

Oh, whatever this was, it could not be good. Rex weighed the odds, then shrugged. =Low, I think.=

Q7 nodded. =War makes for a lot of input. We’re supposed to be wiped every few months.= Rex tried not to wince. He knew that. Hated it. Q7 and DT8-0 had both come back from wipes...bleary. Mechanical, a hint stupid without the personality that made them...them. They recovered faster than a lot of clankers Rex had to be around, but it always made his skin crawl how for a week or so neither of his friends acted much like themselves.

=I haven’t been wiped since the start of the war.=

Rex’s jaw dropped and he stared. = _What_?=

Q7 held his gaze. =I’ve had help since the war started. The last two wipes, I even managed to handle things on my own.= Q7 hesitated. =I already knew I wasn’t going to manage a third. You have always been my first choice for who to turn to for help.=

Rex wanted to protest, deny that he could do anything that radical. Him, the Null who’d let Ahsoka Tano escape her cell. Gods, what was the universe coming to? He would’ve thought that Fives or–

Realization washed over him. Two wipes ago. Fives had had his chip removed – against orders – about a month before that. Both Fives and Echo had been friends with any number of droids, to the point of adopting an eccentric little medical droid that they treated like a little brother– Rex’s brain stalled again.

AZ-3 had developed a core personality.

Echo knew the regs backwards, forwards, and all the twisty loopholes in between. Fives was impetuous and passionate enough to make... _quirky_ decisions.

=Gods, Q7, what kind of underground freedom ring were Echo and Fives running?=

Fucker didn’t wince. Q7 hadn’t thought to slip that past Rex. =Big enough. Not the point, though. Plausible deniability means nothing anymore. You’re my commander, and you are my friend. You’ve had my loyalty quite a while now.=

He didn’t know if he wanted to groan and facepalm, or give the damn fool clanker a hug. =I’m grateful and honored, but– = Rex shook his head. =I don’t know which is weirder: that, or that Skywalker missed you playing powered down.=

=Ah. That. Yes.= Q7 made the noise he passed off as clearing his throat. =A moment, please.= He reached up, pressing a small plate along the base of his neck plates. =There’s been a complication,= he said, speaking quieter but projecting a hair.

A metallic sigh came over what had to be a hidden com. =I hope no one ended up dead. I can do something about really mangled, but dead is still beyond my capabilities. Is there a reason we’re speaking a different language?=

“AZ?” Rex whispered, not quite believing his ears. Fives’ pet med bot – the one responsible for removing his chip – had disappeared in the time between the procedure removing Fives’ chip and the ARC’s descent into paranoid madness. By the time the body breaking convulsions had started to set in, no one had a clue where the droid had gone. Rex had suspected Fives had done something rash or literally insane, but he’d never been able to figure out what.

=Commander Captain Rex!= AZ chirped, and fuckall if that wasn’t enough to convince Rex. AZ had developed multiple quirks, and the tendency to treat ‘Captain’ as part of Rex’s name – which in all technicality it was – had been one of the more annoying yet endearing ones. Of course, now he had to wonder if AZ had gotten that habit because Fives and Echo had been fiendish little shits, and their droid took after them. =You’re not dead, are you? Just mangled?=

He couldn’t help a strangled bark of laughter. =Only a little. What the hells are you doing here?=

AZ gave a huffy little sigh. =Continuing my mission, and rescuing everyone else, it seems.= Gods. That meant Q7 _had_ been powered down, and AZ must have been the one to reboot him.

=What mission?=

=Find out what the Jedi know about the chips. Either they’re very good at hiding things, or they have no idea. I have to say I think it’s more likely the second option, though. No one’s that good at hiding things, even if Skywalker is handling a lot of their code.=

Fuck. Fuck, if AZ had been looking already, and this backed up what Kenobi thought – Rex shook his head. =Fives gave you this mission?=

The pause was faint but telling. =Of course.= Rex could hear grief threading through the droid’s vocalizer. =He– after the first day, he didn’t think he was going to survive. He wanted to make sure we did something about it.=

Rex closed his eyes and slid down the wall. =Then I think we’re going to need to work with the Jedi.=

Q7 snorted. =Work with you, you mean. You can work with them. We’ll keep your back clear.=

Rex managed a smile. =Yeah, that works too.=

Q7 folded himself down to sit next to Rex. =We’ve got your back, Captain.=


	3. Chapter 3

Rex was bored.

To be fair, that was better than the alternatives: torture, death, or vivisection. He’d even been upgraded from a featureless cell to a small but furnished cabin – locked from the outside, of course.

Q7 wasn’t allowed to stay with him, but he could visit, as long as they didn’t mind their respective guards eavesdropping. AZ-3 was hiding in various air ducts and back corridors with regular trips to Medical as ‘just another droid.’ AZ had backup in the form of DT8-0, who, like Q7, had gotten culled for the Republic, only to be saved by conniving medbot. Rex hadn’t been able to talk to them after the first conversation with AZ, but Q7 was in constant contact with their allies.

It wasn’t much, but at least Rex knew he wasn’t alone.

After a few days, he was surprised and a bit disgusted to find he was developing a kind of routine, such as it was – get poked and prodded and interrogated in the morning, have lunch, spar in the gym, usually against Republic soldiers who didn't like him _at all_ , then visit with Q7, and finally, retreat to his room for dinner. Q7 had even less freedom than Rex did, between the restraining bolt, a perpetual minder, and the disadvantage of being the droid that broke in to a Republic cruiser to help Rex escape. Q7 reported that when it was just him and the minder the treatment was ‘acceptable’ – which Rex figured was anything but, however that was how so many beings treated droids.

As for his own interactions, the interrogations were the worst part. For all that he loathed the persistent examination and callous treatment from the medical officers, the endless, hostile questioning was worse. Every last one of the Republic Intelligence officers hated him, demanding more intel from him, day in and day out.

Worse still were the tiny handful of occasions that Kenobi himself questioned Rex. Those were awkward times. The Jedi would pace around the far end of the room, bloodshot yellow eyes burning into Rex with each question. Some of it was questions about Confederate political structure, or military power, or social maneuvers. Sometimes it was questions Rex saw no purpose to.

Except there was always a direction to Kenobi’s questions. The Jedi would offer his own bits of information – some of which had to be highly classified on the Republic side, as well – and that would throw Rex’s answers into a new light. The more they did this, the more Rex found that the causes of the war and the creation of the clones were shady at best, outright manipulation at worst.

* * *

An entire month with a Null aboard made for a very uneasy truce. Ahsoka still wasn’t sure she could call it that. Captain Rex was always polite, often distant, and being in the same room as him made her skin crawl. He was otherwise a quiet presence, trailed everywhere by guards and occasionally the commando droid Master Obi-Wan had told her not to trust. Since someone had realized the Republic had very little intel on living Nulls, Captain Rex spent a lot of time in Medical.

The worst part was she kept finding herself wanting to like the Null. He had talked to her while she was a captive, and in a way she didn’t quite understand, she felt like it was the right thing to talk with him as well.

He was also very...well, very human. He liked reading silly holonovels. Then again, he seemed to like reading _anything_ he could get his hands on – or that the commando droid could snag for him. Ahsoka had caught the thing red-handed. She’d heard the local Intelligence officer haul Captain Rex off for a quick set of questions about one of the recent battles. It was in the local afternoon, so she wasn’t surprised to turn the corner into the room and find the tinny still there. Its guard lounged against one wall, looking bored.

The commando droid had glared defiantly at her as it finished picking up a datachip and moved it with deliberate slowness into a storage compartment in its chassis. Ahsoka had recognized the label on the chip – it was some poor idiot’s copy of _War of Love_. Not exactly high literature. When she’d been too bemused to do more than watch, the tinny had withdrawn to its corner, while the guard had just shaken her head with a dismissive smirk.

Captain Rex had been reading it later that day in Medical, with the commando droid watching her with its beady eyes.

To be fair, she’d seen the same battered datachip back in the rec area not two nights later. The whole thing confused her immensely.

If it wasn’t for the horrible sensation of a vacuum trying to suck the air out of her lungs every time she was even in the same room with the Null, she might have wanted to make friends.

* * *

Rex walked onto the _Vigilant_ ’s bridge with only a bit of hesitation, Q7 a watchful presence at his side. It probably wasn’t another round of questioning; Q7 wasn’t allowed to go with him then.

Rex’s guards – an ordinary clanker and a Twi’lek who never seemed to stop glowering at him – led the way to a tactical map. Kenobi was on the other side of it, his eyes that dark blue they seemed to be in public.

Rex still hadn’t figured out what was going on with that, but he’d filed it under ‘awkward questions liable to get him killed or Q7 mangled,’ and left it alone.

“You know we’ve been engaged in maneuvers for the last week and a half, yes?”

“Just the _Vigilant_ , or this part of the fleet?”

He got a scowl for that, as if Kenobi still didn’t like to be reminded that Rex wasn’t an idiot, or little more than a mobile gun platform with a null field. “The fleet.” He gestured to the tac map, setting up a simulation. “Tell me what you know.”

Rex leaned in, bracing himself against the edge of the projector. There were patterns to the complicated dance of lights, pips marking star destroyers and supply ships. He kept seeing clusters of lights wink out, usually near stars not too far off hyperspace lanes – someone was using star destroyers to pull other ships out of hyper.

He knew of only one brother with that kind of skill, and last Rex knew, he had been in this area of space. The fact that he didn’t like that man very much did nothing to lessen the weight of betrayal on Rex’s shoulders. “Slick.” He spoke quietly, but that didn’t stop the sensation of his words rolling through the room, bigger than they had any right to be. “Possibly with, or serving under Admiral Trench.”

“Trench is dead!” Rex’s Twi’lek guard snapped, hand tightening on the butt of her blaster.

Rex shot her a disdainful look. “You mean at Malastare? Or the time he died at Christophsis? Or when he died fleeing from– ”

“Enough!” Kenobi snapped, and Rex had to clench his jaw shut around more sarcasm. Trench had a reputation of being ruthless, cold, and deadly. Rex wasn’t surprised that the Twi’lek was reacting like she had a personal grudge – there were a lot of military leaders on both sides that generated strong feelings. War did that. War crimes guaranteed it.

The rest of the debrief was just as much fun, with the bonus of an armed guard trying to glare holes through his head. By the time Rex felt wrung dry of every last thing he could think of regarding Slick, Trench, Sep tactics, and ambushes, Kenobi still looked as closed off and in control as ever, the usual anger simmering under the surface.

The Jedi waved his minions off at the end of the planning session – had to have been prearranged, given how the Republic folks looked disgruntled but resigned. Rex braced himself as subtly as he could, but when they had the area to themselves Kenobi gave him a flat glare.

“What do the Kaminoans know about the chips?”

Rex blinked. They’d covered that ground early on, in the awkward intel-swaps, with Kenobi pacing at one end of an interrogation room, and Rex stuck at a table at the other. “They were told by Sifo-Dyas– ”

“Not to dig too deeply and they were paid a lot of credits for that privacy,” Kenobi said, finishing the sentence for him.

He fought against the urge for a moment, then gave in. “If you’d prefer to give me the sit rep instead of asking questions, I’m game for that too.”

Kenobi’s eyes flashed yellow for a moment, then back to deep blue. “Every lead I have on that man dried up. His remains and lightsaber were just recovered from a rather remote moon he had no reason to be on, but we’re finding nothing but more obstacles at the Temple.” Rex did tend to wonder about the nebulous ‘we.’ Might be the royal we, to lord over Rex more; might be Skywalker, though he didn’t think the man was going anywhere near the Core given some of the verbal acrobatics he’d witnessed when Skywalker was trying to escape an invitation to some kind of Senatorial function. Might be someone else, but whatever the answer, he had to trust Kenobi to know what he was doing.

Gods, but that still rankled.

“And none of my leads turned up anything.” He’d had some theories, and a few – passed on by AZ – that Fives had had about the manufacture of the damn things, but if Kenobi could be believed then those had been fruitless as well.

“So the only trail we have leads to Kamino.”

Rex gaped. “You want to just waltz into one of the more heavily fortified garrisons in the Confederacy and just politely ask for intel they don’t have, please to share it with a traitor and a _Jedi_?”

Kenobi’s look was scathing. “Of course not. They have guard instillations all through the system. However, the Rishii moon installations are due to have heavy meteor showers the next two weeks, which makes for a perfect time to crash land near one of them and infiltrate it. Are you up to it?”

* * *

“Time to earn your keep, Commander.”

Rex kept his eye-roll under control, crouching before the keypad to the small maintenance entrance underneath the landing pad. They’d survived the landing well enough, Kenobi piloting with a skill Rex hadn’t realized he’d had. Sure, he’d snarled at Rex a dozen times during the transit to keep at the back of the little starfighter’s cockpit, but even that snarl was starting to take on the blunted edges of habit.

They’d survived a several-klik march past giant eels, actual meteors, and surveillance cams to climb the cliff up to a well-secured door, and Rex only hoped that AZ could pull through. There’d been a modified datapad waiting on the shuttle for him, probably smuggled in by DT8-0. It was a good thing, too, because Kenobi’s plan on how to covertly gain entrance had involved lightsabers.

Rex plugged it into the wire guts of the door control, and it lit up with all sorts of useless information about how little the door was used and how far past its last maintenance date it was. He grimaced – he was decent at cryptography, but raw data like this had been Echo’s specialty. Rex tapped the small com button jury-rigged into the pad, murmuring almost under his breath as if he were absentmindedly yammering while working a problem. =Tell me what you think, AZ.=

Mando’a text scrolled across the bottom of the pad’s screen. =I think I’m glad the idiot who coded this was shot two weeks into the war. This kind of sloppiness is criminal.=

Rex kept his smirk under wraps, stilling himself with a slow exhale and a suspicious squint as if he didn’t like what he saw. =Can you open it?=

Kenobi huffed out an impatient sigh from where he was keeping watch a good two meters away, and spoke. =And can it do so quickly, before the cameras make another sweep of the area?=

Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_. Rex restrained himself to a slow turn of the head to look at Kenobi, who was yellow-eyed and arcing his brows like he wanted to use Rex as a battering ram to open the damn door.

The door popped open, the pad going blank except for a lingering message from AZ: =Luck.=

AZ had heard. Oh good. Rex stood slowly, and careful to keep his hands where Kenobi could see them. Rex had neither armor nor weapon – something he appreciated so _very_ much – but that didn’t mean he was defenseless.

Then again, Kenobi wasn’t liable to be a pushover.

=You speak Mando’a.=

Kenobi rolled his eyes and used the Force to shove the door open wider – the sensation of air passing over Rex a side effect of what might have been meant to be a shove to him to get him through the damn door. =Read the damn Mandalore Reconstruction. Or did you think Duchess Kryze survived the civil war all on her own?=

Shit. That meant she’d been saved by Jedi – odds were, by Kenobi himself. Rex swallowed, then made himself turn his back to the Jedi and start into the building. “Guess that explains some of her more ridiculous notions about pacifism.”

Kenobi hissed behind him. “Do not blame me for that. That idiocy is _all_ Satine’s.”

Rex _hated_ agreeing with Kenobi about anything, and having one more item on that list made his muscles clench a bit. At least thinking Satine Kryze was a madwoman even for a Mandalorian wasn’t an unreasonable bit of mutual ground.

* * *

They made it several corridors in before their luck turned sour. Obi-Wan suspected it was circumstance instead of missed alarms that had them rounding a corner and a beat later diving away from blasterfire. Commander Rex dove back, while Obi-Wan grinned, the Darkness inside snapping the very thin leash. He dodged the first wave of fire, ignited his lightsaber, and lunged forward.

The clone was either inept, or young – either way, quickly dead. The three that came pounding down the corridor a few moments later had at least one competent member, meaning they lasted a few seconds more. Obi-Wan flicked his lightsaber off and stepped over the last corpse to fall, letting out a faint sigh of relief as the clone finally expired. That meant the Force could sweep back into the human-shaped space that felt oily, polluted in the way that most clones twisted the fabric of the universe.

He was still stretching out his senses in the Force, checking for more signs of life or pollution, when a tingle of danger sparked from the black hole at his back. He spun, lightsaber flicking on even as there was a _thud_ behind him.

Obi-Wan stared at Commander Rex, who stood over the prone body of an unconscious clone. Commander Rex straightened, that damned stubborn, resentful look crawling across his face. “Don’t kill him. Please.”

This trend was becoming _annoying_.

Still. Bastard had saved him some inconvenience.

* * *

Rex held his breath, not daring to hope. He’d managed to keep Q7 alive and in one piece, and given Kenobi seemed to know about AZ and thus probably DT8-0 too, this was asking a lot. It was just some stupid young shiny that had hesitated on seeing a Jedi, on seeing _Obi-Wan Kenobi_. Too young and scared to even check his back, so he never saw Rex coming. There was no reason, strategic or otherwise, for Kenobi to let the shiny live.

Kenobi’s glare smoothed over into something icy and disdainful, for all the fury still burning in his eyes. The Jedi was deliberate as he raised a hand as if pointing to the side corridor. Before Rex could figure if Kenobi was ordering him to remove the living trooper, the Jedi’s hand clenched into a fist. There was a nasty _crunch crackle_ of explosively breaking bones, accompanied by a brother’s strangled cry of pain going silent in death.

The dead clone collapsed into the hallway out of the corridor. When Rex managed to look away, Kenobi met his aghast stare with an almost smug, “Very well.”

Kenobi turned and stalked off, leaving Rex to catch up. He took the time to drag his unconscious younger brother around the corner, not willing to leave some poor stupid shiny to wake up surrounded by his dead squadmates.

He caught up with Kenobi quick enough, noting the reflexive twitch that his presence tended to generate. The silence settled over the base – Rex was willing to bet that the single squad had been it.

Fuckall, he couldn’t take it. “ _Why?_ ”

Kenobi didn’t finch, let alone slow in the least. All Rex got was a sideways, feline look. “Do calm yourself, Commander. I wasn’t the one he was aiming at.”

Rex stopped in his tracks, staring after the Jedi with his heartbeat thundering in his ears. There was no reason for Kenobi to lie. Jedi knew that kind of shit.

He tried so hard to keep his shoulders from bunching around his ears, reminding himself of the mission, the _reason_ for their presence.

He’d been gone a month, and was no better at rationalizing his betrayals at all.

* * *

“There’s _nothing!_ ” Kenobi snarled, slamming a palm against data console. The strain of the mission was starting to tell on the volatile Jedi, and Rex didn’t like it one bit. He went through several more directories, glancing over at his datapad connection with AZ. Also nothing. He leaned back in the chair with a sigh, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Rex allowed himself a moment of disgruntlement that a trimmer was still too much for even a – supposedly – trusted turncoat to have. He couldn’t ever remember having his hair this long, and it surprised him every time he encountered hair that was starting to curl instead of being the bristle he preferred.

“I’m not finding anything either.”

“You, or your little friend?” Kenobi asked with a sneer, resuming his agitated pacing.

“Either of us.” Rex kept his voice even, though it took some effort. Kenobi wasn’t the only one bothered by the cost of more failure. For all that he might be worth more to Kenobi alive than dead, antagonizing someone who despised your very existence was never a smart move. “These terminals hook up to the same military based network you could find on any compromised base or flagship.”

Kenobi waved a hand dismissively. “Troop movements we know, missions so compromised that neither side knows what the hells is going on, tell me something I don’t know!”

It was asking for trouble and Rex knew it, but hells. “Koon is still missing, isn’t he.”

That got Kenobi to stop pacing. He fixed that strange yellow glare on Rex. “Who was sent after him?”

“Wolffe and his pack – they’re still missing as well.”

“I’ve heard the name,” Kenobi said slowly, “but I don’t know more than he’s a Null.”

Rex made sure to meet Kenobi’s eyes without making it a glare. “They’re the reason that Even Piell only blew up the Citadel, instead of getting the coordinates for the Nexus Routes back to you.” He made a face. “Though the intel was so outdated it did us no good, and Wolffe lost an eye and too many soldiers.”

Kenobi gave him a cold, bitter smile. “Fair’s fair, I suppose.”

Rex waited until Kenobi broke the stare, then he glanced back at his pad. He vacillated a moment, but gods knew the intel seemed sound, they needed data from the source, and Rex desperately needed to see a friendly face – even if there was only a fifty percent chance that Cody would hold his fire long enough for Rex to explain. It was split odds that Cody would still hold _after_ an explanation too, but at least he wouldn’t be dying useless and at the hands of a Jedi.

“I think I might have an idea.”

“Oh?” Kenobi asked, voice still cold and dangerous.

Rex let out a slow breath. “The _Vigilant_ and that part of the fleet is still engaged with Trench and Slick.” He pointed to the relevant list of troop deployments. “They look like they might be operating out of the Saleucami system.” His voice almost caught, but he thought he’d managed to sound normal enough. “We made friends there earlier in the war.”

“So?”

Deep breath in. _Commit. You’ve already come this far._ “I know one of the Commanders that’s been assigned to work with them. If I can talk to him, there’s decent odds he’ll either help, or at least not shoot to kill. He’s got the clout to sneak one or both of us onto Kamino itself – you should fit into armor, so if we go in as shinies, no one should know the difference.”

Kenobi said nothing for a bit, just staring at him. His mouth finally quirked up in something that might be a distant relative to a grin. “No sneaking around, just march in under orders from your friend.”

“If one of us mans the vid feeds, we also don’t need to keep a close eye on everything around us. Could still blow up in our faces, but it’s a hell of a better chance than trying to sneak onto one of the more fortified spots in Sep space.”

Kenobi nodded slowly, leaning a hair closer to skim the Sep roster. He stilled and glared at Rex. “The only name I recognize as having enough clout is Commander Cody.”

Rex glared back. “And?”

“He’s got a reputation as a padawan killer.”

Oh, this shit. Rex shook his head, almost snarling. “Two. Both times they attacked _him_ , and one of those the entire Ghost Company has the credit.”

That earned him a bark of humorless laughter. “Barriss Offee and Nahdar Vebb would disagree if they could.”

“They both had the titles of ‘Knight’ and ‘General,’ Kenobi! How many clone younglings have you killed? Offee and Vebb were adults who made their choices, and we made ours! Cody survived that one, they didn’t!”

Kenobi had his lightsaber in hand, but still not ignited. “We did not choose to start this war!”

“And we didn’t ask to be _bred_ to die in it!” Rex dared to take a step closer, still glaring but taking note of Kenobi’s tightened grip and readier stance. “Whether it’s Jedi or someone else behind this clusterfuck, I don’t know, but either way none of us started this shit. So do you or do you not have the courage to go to the clone home planet and find out who _is_ responsible?”

Yellow eyes burned bright enough they should have seared holes through Rex. Kenobi was practically trembling with rage, and Rex could almost imagine he could _see_ the Jedi wrestling his temper under control. Kenobi turned with a snarl, cloak billowing around him. “Get whatever intel you need and move. We’ve a battle to go to. And if you’re lucky, your brother won’t claim kill credit for a traitor as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _War of Love_ is totally [IMJZ's fault](http://imjz.tumblr.com/post/147216295901/you-seem-like-somebody-who-would-enjoy-this-so). If you like the link, then Norcumi suggests [others in the same series/vein](http://imjz.tumblr.com/tagged/can-you-tell-ive-read-waaaaay-too-many-trashy-romance-novels%3F). Used with permission and many, many thanks.


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